Running with Scissors
by Opal K. T
Summary: Maggie was brash enough to smuggle top secret government files out of the pentagon. Taking home a slightly damaged silver boombox was nothing - even if it had tried to kill her.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - I don't own TF.

A/N - taken from the prompt generator I found on tf2007fun – Maggie/Frenzy/Damaged.

* * *

It had taken a lot of prodding, and little shock in just the right place, to get the damaged bot to change. Maggie supposed it was some sort of nerve impulse – like how if you shocked a human in just the right spot on the arm, their fingers would flex. She wasn't sure why she thought taking it would be a good idea, but she was just so damn intrigued by the creature – and wouldn't it be beneficial to learn every thing she could about its circuitry? And what better way to learn about its circuitry than to take it home and study it?

Glen had given her a very strange look as they had been escorted out of the dam, her jacket wrapped around the surprisingly heavy stereo. The guards themselves had not even bothered checking the pair of hackers as they left, perhaps due to a bit of shell shock. Or maybe they just didn't care about two nerds. Either way, the trip home had been entirely uneventful, with the exception of Glen prodding her balled up sweater and shooting her questioning looks. Eventually, he gave up, and by the time their plane had landed he seemed to have forgotten about it entirely, yawning a goodbye as he stumbled to his house.

As soon as she had made it to her apartment, Maggie had placed the boom box on her desk, taken a shower, and collapsed into bed without a second thought.

Weeks passed before she actually looked at the bot again. Another shock to the nerve circuit – done with a screwdriver and a bit of static – and the bot had simply unfolded and lain limp across her desk. It really was a fascinating creature; now that she had a chance to look at it closely and it was still. She had prodded along its exposed wires, slowly learning which controlled what, watching its tiny metal claws twitch. When she examined its damaged head, she had been shocked – and a little giddy – to find that the circuits there were still largely intact. It had even spasmed and made a soft whirring sound as she pulled out the remnants of the disk lodged there.

She set down the screwdriver and paused, staring into the dull blue optic. The poor thing seemed so...pathetic, with its limbs splayed awkwardly across her desk, its tiny head tilted at such an odd angle. She felt almost sorry for it. She gently ran a finger along the gash in its face, a small jolt of static from her finger making its body shudder again. She sat it up, propping it against her monitor. Its head lolled sadly to the side.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the little voice called reason told her that this could lead somewhere very dangerous, pointing out that the tiny bot had tried to kill her and would probably do so again should she manage to repair it.

She placed her sweater over it like a blanket, not really knowing why she had felt compelled to do so, and crawled into bed, staring at the ceiling for a very long time before falling asleep. The next morning, she bought two books – one was the last book in a series about teen wizards she found herself strangely – if not childishly – addicted to.

The other was on robotics.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N – I can't leave well enough alone either.

This was actually planned a long ass time ago, but every time I started to actually write it, I didn't like how it started. Then I finally came up with a good concept, but it had been so damn long I felt like no one would be interested. Apparently, I was wrong. Also, the new movie set the cogs in my head turning again, and I've read some amazing stuff in the last few months. So, here we are. I'm continuing this. I'm continuing RtH as well, in a similar fashion (strings of vignettes), because I seem to have better luck with those than I do with full chaptered stories. I'm not making promises. I feel like I'd break them and that isn't fair to you guys, but I will try, courtesy of the encouragement I have received even after all this time.

So, three years and one long winded explanation later, here we are.

You know the drill. Me no own.

* * *

The first time Glen came by and saw the silver form sitting on the coffee table, he damn near jumped out of his skin.

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it. He knew damn well that silver boomboxes were not standard Hoover Dam gift shop fare. He knew that, on previous visits, there damn well had been no sound systems, silver or otherwise, anywhere in the living room. He knew he should have put a stop to...whatever was going on when Maggie started asking questions about hardware and wiring and types of solder and, weirdly enough, neurology. Most of all, he knew Maggie – his irritatingly attractive, extremely smart and occasionally downright stupidly reckless best friend – and he knew that sometimes she just could not leave well enough alone.

This was definitely on of those times. In fact, this made all of those other times – including the time she stole files from the NSA and the time she tried to hack Interpol for 'funsies' – pale in comparison to the point of almost no longer existing.

"Maggie! MAGS! WHAT in the HELL is that..._THING _DOING IN HERE!"

She poked her head out of the kitchenette and looked at him as if _he_ were the crazy one.

"What thing?"

Glen sputtered indignantly, gesturing wildly at the homicidal robot sitting on the table like some piece of murderous kitsch.

"Oh. That," she shrugged, walking, no, _sauntering_ over with two mugs of coffee. "It felt mean to leave him on the desk or in the closet all the time, so I figured I'd bring him out here."

She said this as if she were talking about a puppy.

"It felt...mean? To leave a killer machine...in your closet," a mug was pressed into his hands and he gripped it out of reflex.

"Well, yeah. I was thinking maybe the stimulation from the tele would help him," she pouted in Glen's face. "You know. Like with coma patients."

Brain unable to process anything else, Glen stood and gaped. He blinked. He gaped some more. Maggie sat down on the couch and watched him expectantly. Finally, after some more blinking, he sat down next to her and looked her in the eyes as much as he could while also trying to keep and eye on the metal demon on her table.

"Maggie. You can't be serious. That thing tried to kill us. It will probably, definitely, totally try again. And you want to _HELP IT_?" He clamped his hands over his mouth, glancing nervously at the little robot, half expecting it to jump up and start stabbing things.

Maggie, on the other hand, seemed oddly unfazed by the sudden change in volume (she knew Glen just as well as he knew her) and simply sighed in response.

"Look, I know it's stupid, alright? I was just so curious about them, and it seemed to rude to ask one of the Autobots if I could poke around...you know..in them, God that sounds wrong, and anyway I wasn't about to waste the opportunity," she took a deep breathe and continued before Glen could manage another outburst. "Think of what we could learn? Besides, isn't he better off here than with Sector 7? You heard what they did do 'Bee. Or if the 'Cons found him? Besides...I kind of feel bad for him...all alone and hurt and..." she trailed off. Glen was now staring evenly at her, not fidgeting, no signs of an impending freak out. Sensing a window, she continued. "Look, mate, I know it's crazy. I know it's dangerous. And I promise that if it looks like anything bad is going to come of it, I'll...I'll finish him off myself. Ok?"

Glen wanted to yell some more. He really, really did. But just as he was about to open his mouth to do so, Maggie did the worst thing she could have possibly done.

She pouted. Lip out, blue eyes wide, head tilted, pouted. She even reached up and fiddled with the ends of her hair in a sad, nervous sort of way.

Glen caved.

With the world's most dramatic sigh, he dragged a hand over his face.

"I am so not ok with this. Just so we're clear. I'm not. I think this is gonna bite us in the ass, and when it does I am _so_ reserving the right to dance up and down and say I told you so."

He slammed back his coffee for lack of anything better to do to smash down the giant knot that had just formed in his stomach as Maggie grinned from ear to freaking ear.

"You just said 'us'."

Glen looked pointedly at his mug.

"You did. You said 'us'! Oh my God, Glen, thank you so much, I will make this up to you I swear! I was having so much trouble with the processor and you build computers all the time, this is just fantastic-"

"Woman," he cut her off. "Do not make me regret this faster than I'm already going to."

Maggie just smiled, and, as she practically jumped into his lap to hug him, Glen swore he saw the little kill-bot's eyes flicker.


End file.
